


We All Fall Down

by KittyCatLover123



Series: The Shell Of You [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 1980s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arguing, Child Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Fights, First Time, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Past Relationship(s), Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Scars, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Smoking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyCatLover123/pseuds/KittyCatLover123
Summary: In the 80s, Mitchell is a security guard. He's got a spiteful past, a long list of exes, and is in love with the very man he's supposed to be protecting.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: The Shell Of You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844125
Kudos: 1





	1. Down, I Go

If you were to have asked me to pinpoint the exact moment that I fell in love, or garnered a crush, or just became irrevocably obsessed with a man with eyes the color of stormy skies, I couldn't have told you. It wasn't a sudden realization, like a genius struck by a sudden idea for an invention that would change the course of mankind and give them an immediate spot in the history books. Rather, it was a slow, almost cast took a little over two years and, even then, even _now,_ was taking it's sweet time regarding what the hell I was even thinking, getting all sweet on a guy who regularly fucked the groupies and then would shoot himself up in the bathroom until he couldn't see straight. That wasn't smart, nor professional, or even slightly recommended, and I could spend hours questioning myself as to why I kept falling for the worst, craziest people. First Lindsay, then Kyle, then my boss- _of all people._

Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Lee is technically not my boss. Yeah, that's his name. Gabriel W. Lee, professional guitarist, crazy person, rock star, all that good stuff. His friend, and the lead singer of the band that I was working for, was my boss, and not a very good one at that, let me tell you, but point is, Lee was a higher step than me. I was the lowly security guard who got paid hourly to make sure nobody, least of all the members of the band, got hurt, and he was the guitarist who was cherished by men and women alike. Not that I could blame them. Lee was, e as all hell, and that was my first impression back when I first met him during the summer of 1987. The band he was part of, Steel Souls, had just struck it big, and one of the first matters of business was to get security before one of the members was mowed down. I was the first it brought in, and I'm sure you could imagine me. Tall, burly, buzzcut and all. Back in those days, I was a real prick, and you could tell by just looking at me. 

I guess that's what made me a perfect candidate. Tough, prickly, and loyal to a fault. There was mention of _secrets_ and _you can't let these things get out to the public_ but I was desperate for a job, and qualified for all the boxes that needed to be checked, and so I was hired, despite a rather risky backgrouhelped me get the job. Maybe they didn't care. Either way, it's not time y things. Anyways, a few guys from the band were there, maybe to get a glance at the people who were going to ensure that they didn't die. The first guy was Louis, the lead singer, who was surprisingly the person who caught my attention the least. He just didn't seem like the sort of guy who should be leading a band, and it showed in how he acted, not the type of speak up and be a leader, though he was plenty outspoken about other things. William was the bass guitarist, a chubby, pasty kid who smelt of cheap cologne. They were handsome guys, but plain, unnoticed by me. I'd seen countless magazines, plenty of MTV videos, featuring them. They seemed incapable of smiling in those photos, stuck glowering, wordlessly, at the camera. Lee was at the end of the couch that he and his friends were sitting on, smoking perpetually, a thin man with eyes like clouds, about to deliver thunder unto the earth, and a look about him that suggested trouble. 

That should've clued me in. 

It didn't. 

Like a lot of guys during that decade, Lee was going for the pretty boy look. His hair was messy and uncombed, sitting in long clumps atop his head. It was dyed black, because his natural hair color, auburn, didn't fit the overall image that everybody had of him- the background player, dark, fading into the background. Lee couldn't overshadow Louis, and that hair, a combination of red and brown, clashing together, would've drawn attention. Lee was the 'punk' of the group, dressed in black leather, his boots the same shade as his torn jeans, and his eyeliner was all smudged, giving him the appearance of a young fiend. Even then, before things got crazy, Lee did drugs like a housewife sneaking sips of her husband's scotch, except he had an addiction, one that made him gaunt and morose, looking constantly on edge but also like he was about to fall asleep. He was thin as a twig and pale as a vampire, standing at an impressive 6'0 but looking so frail that he probably couldn't have lifted anything that was any heavier than his guitar. Lee was handsome, absolutely gorgeous, and not even the pencil thin scar on his jaw, small but noticeable, detracted from his looks. 

He drew me in like a fly to honey. A moth to a flame. To be honest, I had a chance to quit then and there when his eyes, so sharp settled on mine, and when his lips twisted into an expression that wasn't quite a smile, far from a smirk, but I didn't. I didn't believe that this boy, who was still too young to drink, barely six years younger than me but looking so young, could have such an effect on me. He was merely a guitarist who constantly wore long sleeves because of his track marks and seemed to see, hear, _know_ everything. I was just there to protect him, but then it became so much more. 

Lee wasn't friendly. He was harsh and cruel, spitting out curses and insults with that hoarse, raspy voice of his, but whenever he was with me, that temper seemed to cool. 

"Who are you?" I remember asking one night after a show, looking at him, unsure how he was still walking. Just another one of those mysteries that you couldn't solve. Lee was full of those, unsolved mysteries and enigmas. "The man who stole the stole the gold." Lee replied, puffing on his cigarette, eyes cold, distant. 

I didn't understand his answer then. I still don't. 

Quiet and withdrawn, Lee seemed to attract the worst people. Sometimes, I wonder if I was one of those people, but the answer doesn't come to me in a straight form. There were many times when men and women tried to ply him with alcohol and cocaine to get him to come home with them, to do unspeakable things, and I'd notice, and try to step in, but Lee had always noticed, and as always, there would be a sneer and a finger. "F'ck off." He would say. Short and simple. He would walk away, disappearing while I tried to follow him, replicate those quick footsteps, but I never could. 

It always took me a long while to find him. 

Then we'd go on home, to the apartment that the band called home in those days, and I would watch as Lee kicked off his boots and lay down on his hard bed, hands on his stomach, refusing to shut his eyes until I closed the door. 

And I would close the door, and it would barely be a second later that I'd hear the lock click. 


	2. Nevermore

For the sake of longevity, I'll get on with the beginnings of how it all began to fall apart. 

It was a cold night, with sprinkling of stars scattered across the dark expanse of black sky. We were at a bar that smelt strongly of musk and I was standing beside Lee near the back, watching as he smoked with a casual laziness of seemed becoming of him. He hadn't dyed his hair for the next few weeks yet, and strands of auburn hung out from inky black. Louis and all the rest were lost amongst the crowd, and a small part of me supposed that I should look for them, but I didn't. They knew how to handle themselves so long as they didn't get to inebriated, which, I suppose, they were going to get. They were rock stars, anyway. But I didn't want to move, and the bar scene wasn't really my choice of spending the night at, so it was unfamiliar, as much as I was dragged to it. 

Lee was looking at me oddly. Eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, and it was giving him a raccoon look. "Something's on your mind." He said softly, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. I shrugged. "Just tired, running after you people all day." Though I had gotten this job by choice. Scoffing, Lee turned away for a minute, coughing roughly, and then turned back to me, eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't be so tired of you lost some weight." He said in a snide tone.

Ouch. 

For a minute, I was about to point out that I was of normal weight class in my height range, and that if anybody was going to concerned about their weight, of all things, it should be Lee, who probably weighed 110 soaking wet and, with how tall he was, should've weighed much more, but engaging in arguments with the guitarist wasn't in my job description. "Whatever." I replied, crossing my arms. It was starting to get later and later, and they had a concert the next day which, considering that I had to go with them, meant that I, too, had a concert the next day. "We need to get back to the hotel. You guys are exhausted enough as it is." 

Lee curled his upper lip but nodded nonetheless, beginning to walk away. I was reminded of an angry teenager, with his too big clothing and rather angsty accessories, but unlike all those teenagers whom stayed out late at night and smoked pot with their friends, I suspected Lee had a reason to act like he did. Later on, I would learn why, but not then. I was as oblivious as I could be back then, and just sent a prayer up to whoever was listening to give me strength. Patience. A will to go through the years with these idiots, who had potential, they really did, but were lost to drugs, alcohol, sex, and whatever else rock stars were into. 

Gathering them all up was a nightmare, and by the time I managed to find everybody, an hour had gone by. I practically had to throw them into the awaiting cars, everybody except Lee, who threatened to give me a concussion if I touched him, and then, when all was said and done, got in myself. A headache had become to throb within my skull, and I was completely ready to just fall into bed and sleep forever. 

Louis had brought a girl with him, and they were practically eating each other's faces off in the back seat. Some of the guys were egging it on, and the others were telling them to get a room, a cacophony of voices mingling and talking over the others. I felt like a parent who was stuck chaperoning everybody else's kids, including my own. 

How did I get stuck in such a position? Easy, because I didn't have anywhere else to go. 

The drive felt longer than usual, and by the time I managed to get everybody back into their respective hotel rooms, the darkness was beginning to pull back a little to reveal the beginnings of day. I had nothing else to do with everybody in bed, and soon enough, I fell asleep myself. 

Until somebody started pounding on my door. 

Groggy and irritated, I stumbled out of bed, dressed in only a pair of boxers, and opened the door to find Lee, still dressed in the same clothes that he'd been wearing earlier, looking pensive. 

"We need to talk." He said, for once not sounding irritated or anything, just quiet and almost urgently, and I didn't turn him away.


	3. Chapter 3

I dunno if ill be updating this again. 


End file.
